A Change in Weather
by Moonchild10
Summary: Twoshot. Anne Cunningham attempts to piece her life back together after the events in Silent Hill. Murphy helps. (MurphyxAnne shipping. Contains sexual content)
1. Chapter 1

_You know the drill. I don't own Downpour, I don't profit from writing etc. etc. etc..._

_Originally, this was going to be really explicit but it turned out to be tame enough to post to FFN so I'm pretty happy about that XD This is pretty long, so I thought it might be easier to read if I split it into two parts._

_For my girlfriend._

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In the smoky air of the bar, even with the relatively sizeable crowd, she wasn't difficult to spot. Even out of her work uniform and in street clothes, Anne Cunningham had a way of sticking out. It could be the intensity to her or it could be the sense of familiarity in seeing her there, cradling a cup on the bar in front of her in both hands, back hunched. But whatever the case Murphy Pendleton's eyes immediately managed to gravitate to her as he entered the building, leaving the cloudy gray evening behind him as the double doors slid shut. He sidestepped bargoers in varying stages of drunkenness through the small, dim space and ended up by her side.

"Hey, stranger," he said before realizing how goofy it probably sounded. Anne was by no means a stranger. They'd been meeting like this for months now, always in desolate, dumpy little bars and out-of-the-way restaurants. Anne's reasoning was that places like this would attract less attention, make them less visible, which was necessary for what they primarily discussed—before the discussion inevitably veered off topic and reached the far ends of the spectrum—namely, making a case against Sewell. That wasn't to say that the meetings didn't occasionally include a little good natured flirting, but as far as Murphy was concerned at the end of the day Anne was always primarily all business. Anne was, of course, good at choosing these low-profile locations. Murphy had had to know the name of the bar to find the place, but if he didn't he would have believed anyone who told him it was called the Hole in the Wall. It was that refined. "Sorry if I'm late. Took me a while to find the place."

"Hey yourself," Anne replied, but there was a hollow quality to her voice, and the pit of Murphy's stomach dropped several inches. Shaken slightly, he lowered himself onto the stool beside hers, staring hard at the glass in her hands. It looked like whiskey, confirmed by the quarter-empty bottle of the liquor sitting on the bar before her.

"You okay?" Murphy asked, his tone shades gentler than the last sentence he'd uttered. "Should you really be drinking so much?" She'd driven here, after all.

"Why not?" she asked, and momentarily there was a dull throb of buried anger in her tone, that old dangerousness, before she buried it in a long, slow sigh. "Might as well. Sewell was acquitted."

"What?" Murphy asked. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Even after—"

"Mhm," Anne replied, taking a swig of the whiskey in her glass before her and then placing it back on the counter much harder than she needed to. The clatter attracted the attention of the bartender momentarily and then he went back to polishing glasses. "Not enough evidence. 'Circumstantial', they said. And they wouldn't even let me testify. They called it fucking conflict of interest. And so with all that the case fell through. There weren't any credible witnesses. Live ones, anyway." The amount of bitterness in that last statement made Murphy's hair stand on end. "So all of this has been for nothing. Even after all that he still… the bastard still walked."

"God i_dammit/i,"_ Murphy huffed, mostly because he didn't know what else to say. All their work, all their sleuthing and combined brainpower, nights of brainstorming, all of it had ultimately amounted to nothing. Murphy felt sick to his stomach. Not just for himself, either. Sure, Sewell being convicted would have meant Murphy's freedom, would mean he wouldn't have to live out of hotel rooms and work odd jobs off the radar and live on borrowed time because he was supposed to be, by Anne's reliable report, a dead man. And if he were a live one, he would be a wanted one. But the more pressing issue was Anne. Because this was her father's killer in question. This was her one chance for closure going up in smoke before their eyes. Murphy hurt for both of them. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything else I can—"

"No," Anne replied quickly, and there was a tremor in her voice, her usual tough invulnerability falling away to reveal the delicate person she kept so well concealed underneath. "You've done more than I could have asked for. We gave it our best shot. There's nothing else we can do."

It wasn't like her to give up. It worried Murphy more than the hopeless tone she said it in. "Sure, we can…"

"Don't," Anne said rather sharply, shaking her head. "Just don't. I don't want to talk about that right now. I can't. There's nothing I…" it didn't seem she could finish, and she bowed her head forward, a helpless gesture. Her shoulders shook once, twice, and Murphy placed his hand on her arm, pushing it gently back down to the counter when she lifted it to pick up her drink, and then sliding up to her shoulder. Seeming almost indignant, Anne lifted her head and fixed him with an intimidating stare, which he chose to ignore.

"Let me take you home," he suggested, his voice low. He hoped it was soothing. It had been so long since he'd had reason to be tender with someone he found himself tripping awkwardly over his words, feeling as helpless as she looked and sounded. "You can get some rest, worry about all this tomorrow. It's not doing you any good right now, trust me." It wasn't that he thought she was drunk; Anne was better at holding her liquor than anyone he'd ever met. Certainly better than him, with all those years behind bars without a drop of liquor reducing his tolerance drastically from what it had been before. It was that he was worried about her, about what she might do. Never mind that she might end up crashing if she drove after all that whiskey and while she was so upset, and he'd never be able to live with himself, knowing he let her get hurt. It was more about what she might do to Sewell if he left her alone. The bastard wasn't worth throwing her life away over and he'd be damned if he let Frank's daughter end up with a number on her back.

Not even justice for her father was worth that.

"I can drive myself home." Anne sounded hollow, more so than before, and when she reached for the whiskey a second time, Murphy intercepted her hand and put his on top of it, successfully ignoring the warm jolt in his chest as he did so.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," he gave his rebuttal firmly, but not roughly. "And I think you've had enough."

"I'll tell you when I've had enough," Anne replied, the classic remark of people who have definitely had enough, before finally sighing softly and letting her shoulders slump. "Alright. I'm sorry." She sounded miserable. "I guess I don't need to get drunk and belligerent and start a bar fight on top of everything else."

Relieved that he'd gotten through to her, Murphy coughed unnecessarily and removed his hand from on top of hers, feeling like some kind of ridiculous schoolboy. "So you'll let me give you a ride, then? I'd feel a lot better if you would."

"I could have one of the guys from the prison give me a ride to my car tomorrow," Anne said reluctantly, and Murphy knew he'd won. Wobbling a bit with what Murphy suspected was not drunkenness and merely sheer emotional exhaustion, she slid from her stool. She had no purse to grab, and had left her holster at home. It was strange to see her without a gun on her person. Somehow, she looked much smaller. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Of course. I'd actually rather make sure myself that you get home safe," Murphy replied, fussing more than was necessary. She'd already been through so much, and now this, on top of everything else. In his own small way, he wanted to help her however he could. Even if it only meant giving her a ride when she was in no shape to drive herself and when she might have vigilante justice on the brain. He knew her well. Definitely well enough to know it was a possibility.

"Thanks." Anne sounded genuinely grateful, much more than the situation warranted. "For everything."

"Yeah," Murphy responded, because he didn't know how else to react to that. He wasn't sure he'd ever done anything to deserve her thanks. Now that she was standing, he did the same, and gestured toward the door. "Come on, my truck's in the lot. Should probably get out of here before it starts to rain."

And of course, the downpour had already started when they exited the bar. It pattered heavily on the windshield during the mostly silent drive to Anne's home. Apart from her giving him directions, the interior of the truck was filled with silence and the smell of their wet hair. Even with that, Anne smelled nice, though it made him feel like some sort of creep to think about. In the confines of the truck they were in closer proximity to each other than they'd ever been, besides during their myriad of awkward hugs, and her scent filled the interior of the cab. It was a little difficult inot/i to notice. The scent was something like poppies, with those vague, ever-present-in-anyone undertones of recently used soap.

"You okay?" Murphy asked after a time, mostly to derail his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Anne nod.

"Sure," she responded, voice heavy. "I just wish I…" She didn't seem to know how to finish.

"I know," Murphy nodded back. "I know."

Anne's home turned out to be a small two story house twenty minutes away, tucked into a rather pleasant neighborhood and with two large oak trees out front. It was surprisingly quaint for someone as intense as Anne Cunningham, but then again he wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting. "This it?" he asked as he pulled into the driveway.

"Yeah." Anne sounded like a soldier after a battle, and she undid her seatbelt, but then simply sat there and glanced sideways at him. "Want to come inside? I could make some coffee." A pause, and when she spoke again it was in a confessional tone. "I guess I just don't want to be alone right now."

"Sure." Murphy nodded, putting the truck in park. He climbed out with her into the rain, the driveway and the grass of the yard burdened with the wetness of the storm. He waited, staring into the stormy sky, as she fished keys out of the pocket of her jeans and unlocked the door. Inside, the house smelled like her, with an assortment of undeterminable homey scents laced through that surprisingly feminine floral smell. The air was warm. He stepped out of the way so Anne could lock the door behind them, and then followed her into the kitchen.

"Coffee?"

"Why not?" Murphy wasn't about to turn down her hospitality. Anne moved over to the coffee maker on the counter and began measuring out grounds and water, depositing them in their correct places. Murphy watched the rain fall outside the window.

"We were close, you know. To nailing him," Anne said while she was busy with the coffee maker, putting far more focus into the small tasks at hand than was really necessary. "If the damn thing hadn't fallen apart in court, then we would've…" she was all business, as usual. Strong and steadfast and unbreakable, and then she felt apart. It was abrupt, like a glass smashing when it hits the ground. All at once she threw the box of coffee filters against a cabinet and crumbled, shoulders dropping, head falling down toward her chest. Murphy was standing at an angle where he could see her face, and it screwed up as the tears started to come, tears she hadn't let herself shed when they were in public. "Oh god dammit," she moaned, face already streaked with tears. One hand came up to clamp itself over her eyes, and the other fumbled blindly for the counter behind her so she could lean up against it. "Fuck."

Murphy was frozen in place by her sudden display of pain. It killed him in ways he could not have imagined and he let out one shallow, shuddering breath before he came for her, not even really knowing what he was doing. She saw him coming and lunged for him, pulling him into an almost crushing hug, which he returned. They were almost exactly the same height, and it made hugging simple business. One cheek pressed to hers, Murphy held Anne as she held him, and she shuddered several times. She swallowed it all before she was able to start openly sobbing, but those shakes still happened, uncontrolled. As her arms tightened around him, Murphy swallowed hard. Her moment of outward despair passed quickly, but he couldn't help worrying, anyway. It was obviously still there, buried again. Slowly her arms loosened and she was holding him instead of clinging to him, but she didn't pull away. Murphy didn't either.

"Stay like this for a while," Anne muttered, shifting enough to make the embrace more comfortable. She sounded shaken, but no longer like she was on the verge of falling apart, and Murphy allowed himself an internal sigh of relief. If she wanted to keep this closeness, who was he to deny her? Especially since there was something about holding her like this that made him feel like somehow, everything made sense for the first time in quite a while. It was an enormous and slightly daunting thing to realize. He shifted with her, accommodating her better in the circumference of his arms, and as he did, his lips involuntarily grazed the side of her neck.

Murphy almost offered an apology, but then her reaction was not at all what he'd expected, no tensing up of her muscles and awkwardness. Instead, she relaxed, a soft breath releasing with a bit of sound as it happened. Murphy was all at once overcome with surprise but also something that felt almost like butterflies in his stomach. He was at a loss, but the way she leaned into him, the way she'd reacted… almost as though he was running on autopilot, or as though he was living in a separate world where it was an entirely normal and acceptable thing to be putting the moves on a prison guard with whom he had what was supposed to be a strictly professional relationship, he did it again. He was caught up in the impulse of the moment, struck dumb by the sheer frivolity that her reaction had somehow unleashed, and this time it was less of a brush and more of a kiss. While last time she had relaxed, this time Anne positively melted. Murphy could not deny the electric thrill he got from that, from the way her fingertips kneaded into his back momentarily, seemingly involuntarily, before she leaned her neck back into his reach, back against his lips in silent consent for him to do it again. This time rather than keeping his lips firmly pressed together he allowed them to part slightly, loose, and egged on by the low gasp she released he trailed kisses down the side of her neck.

II must be losing my mind…/i he told himself somewhere in the middle of his burst of spontaneity as he lavished her neck with kisses, but he didn't stop. Not when his lips parted further, when the tip of his tongue brushed her skin briefly, not when Anne leaned farther into him and tilted her head to the side to give him better access. Not when any sane person would have stopped. Certainly not when his mouth made its way down to her tee shirt and he lifted a hand to move it slightly so he could close his mouth over the place where neck met shoulder. As he sucked gently at her skin there, he was aware of Anne's breath coming faster, harsher, her fingertips kneading at the skin of his back. These things fueled his desire to ignore common sense, to slowly let one hand drift to her hip.

Apparently, that did it. Anne sucked in a hard breath and pulled back enough to move her head, crushing her lips to his. Murphy felt his rear bump against the side of the counter as Anne backed him into it, kissing him slow and deep and desperate. She'd always seemed like such a controlled person but now all of that was gone, peeled back by the sheer level of passion she was expressing in every kiss, in the brush of her tongue to his lips. Murphy let his meet it, a spike of desire slamming into him hard and fast, without warning. Her tongue caressing his desperately, Anne pressed him harder against the counter as her body moved forward to meet with his. The heat of her curves melding with the rough shapes of his body made Murphy's head swim. It wasn't as though he hadn't thought about this, lonely nights in a musty motel bed with his head full of very non-pious thoughts of this woman who had become so many things of him. He was only human. It was more than he could do not to think of her when so many of his feelings had changed and molded around her and she had fit her way into his heart. Lover was something she'd only ever been to him in his most private thoughts, and the clash of his fantasies and reality was far more deafening than that of the clouds outside the window.

Murphy tried to speak around the kiss, a pleasant shiver running the length of his spine as one of her hands squeezed his bottom, the other moving to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. There were things he felt he needed to clarify, even with his head so dizzy and arousal starting to pool in his abdomen and lower in very fast and incredible amounts. "Anne…" he started, only to have it kissed away before it was finished. "Anne… I was wondering…" her kisses drifted to his neck, and Murphy took the opportunity to voice his concerns. Because it was becoming increasingly obvious, if it hadn't been enough already, that this wasn't going to end with mere kissing. "Are you going to regret this in the morning?" it was a valid concept, and as loathe as he was to do anything to put a stop to this intense and passionate night that had only just begun, he wanted to make sure this was happening for the right reasons. Anne was upset, had been through an ordeal today, and she had been drinking. And Murphy was there, the only person around to soothe her worries. The last thing he wanted was for his long repressed desire for her to reach crescendo and find out that he was the only one in it for the reasons he was. For all these tender feelings that arose when she was close and this pure, aching iwant/i for the woman in front of him, one of hands exploring inches of his torso whenever she managed to get a button undone. "You're upset. I don't want you to do something you'll regret because of it. I just—"

Anne's mouth had been exploring the various spots that made him jerk unconsciously on his neck, but at that she moved it back to his, kissing him with such intensity that his knees nearly buckled. It was lucky she was there to support him. When she pulled back there was a fire in her eyes and the look she gave him gave him a jolt in the chest, intense and passionate and with an edge of almost irritated disbelief.

"If you really think me wanting to be with you has ianything/i to do with what happened with Sewell, you're not as smart as I had you pegged," she told him very candidly, eyes watching his in a heated way that was somehow still gentle. "And that'd be a shame. I don't waste my time with idiots." Murphy was very conscious of a ridiculous grin coming over his face as she spoke. "Let me make this very clear; iI want you/i. I've ibeen/i wanting you. And if you tell me you haven't been thinking about this too, I'll call bullshit right here and now. I've seen the way you look at me. Pretty close to the way I look at you, I imagine. So no, I won't regret this in the morning. I've been regretting not doing this a lot of mornings for a long time now. Does that answer your question?"

"In that case, forget I asked," Murphy replied, the grin still on his face. For a moment he just stopped to look at her watching him, fully conscious of how pretty she was now that he knew he had every right to appreciate it. Then, he moved one hand to pull the elastic out of her hair, and it tumbled down around her face. Running his fingers through her hair as he moved in to kiss her, a small contented grunt rose in his throat. Reassured, his free hand worked its way up under her tee shirt, and he felt somehow humbled by the softness of her warm skin under his fingertips. Anne groaned into their kiss as he explored skin he had never dreamed he'd touch. The curve of her side, the bow of her hip. The gentle, subtle slopes of her back and stomach and the warmer skin under the back of her sports bra when he dipped his fingers under the elastic. Anne had finished with his buttons and her hands felt warm as they slid gently over his skin, exploring as he was. Their kisses were less uncontrolled now, less needy and frenzied and instead slower, deeper, more passionate. Murphy's shirt hit the floor as Anne pushed it off his shoulders and he moved his arms to accommodate it, and he grabbed the bottom edge of her shirt and lifted it off of her, too.

There was something almost unreasonably sexy about Anne standing before him in the kitchen in her jeans and gray sports bra, hair messy from his fingers running through it as they kissed. Murphy fell back to her with enthusiasm, tongue finding hers, hands running up and down her soft sides and then up under the front of her bra to cup her breasts. Anne groaned and her hands froze on his hips, fingertips digging in just barely as his hands started to knead them softly, the soft warmth feeling almost surreal against the rough callouses of his hands. It had been so many years since he had been in an intimate situation, since he had touched a woman this way, and he concentrated hard on memorizing the softness of her breasts, the taste of her mouth, and the wet heat of her tongue brushing his. They were things he never wanted to let slip away, even after it was over, but right now it was difficult to think of anything else when she was arching slightly against him, her hands squeezing his hips.

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To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I still own nothing and don't profit from writing this story. _

_Here we go, the second and last part. It's nothing raunchy, just fluffy vanilla stuff and doesn't go at all above the allowed content for M rating as far as descriptions during the sex goes. But it's definitely NSFW, as relatively tame as it is, considering they actually have sex and all that. _

_Also I can't imagine these two getting it on without it being at least a little awkward so..._

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Leaving one hand on her breast, alternating between kneading in the measured way he found made her grunt softly into his mouth and exploring with his fingertips, he let his other hand venture down to undo the button on her jeans and slide the zipper down. There was nothing quite like the sharp intake of breath when his hand ventured inside her underwear and touched her for the first time. An incoherent curse word came out of her mouth between kisses and within seconds her hips were rocking against his hand. Murphy was kissing her neck again, slow and wet, when she pulled away slightly, breathing hard.

"My bedroom is upstairs," she informed him, her voice breathier than he had ever heard it, and Murphy nodded stupidly, dumbstruck by his luck as she took his hand and guided him in the direction of the stairs. This was starting to feel less surreal as the moments wore on, and Murphy was less caught in a perpetual state of wondering whether this was really happening and more completely overwhelmed by how lucky he was to be in this situation. Even more so as Anne led him up the stairs in her bra, her pants unzipped and her hair a mess. Murphy had never seen anyone look more attractive. Their shirts were left forgotten on the kitchen floor and Anne hoisted the door of the room at the end of the hall open with her foot.

After she flipped the light on, Anne's bedroom was something like what Murphy would have expected; small, warm, and simple, with heavy curtains on the windows and thick, comfortable looking blankets on the bed. Outside the window, the rain was falling, hitting the pane and the roof with soft pats. He didn't have much of a chance to look before Anne moved to kiss him again. She kicked the door closed behind them and pushed her hips against his, walking him backwards over to the bed. Murphy was so distracted by the kiss that when the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed they buckled and he toppled over, taking Anne with him. A hoarse shout issued from his mouth as they bounced off the end of the bed and slid to the floor. At first Murphy was worried he'd hurt her in the fall, but Anne was partially on top of him on the carpet and she was laughing. It was something he'd never heard her do, and he simply sat and stared and marveled at it.

"Sorry," he muttered after a moment, slightly embarrassed. It was even more embarrassing to meet Anne's gaze, but he found her looking amused and not at all irritated. She gave another short laugh at that and shook her head. "I guess that probably wasn't very sexy, was it?"

"I beg to differ," Anne said, amusement still heavy in her tone as she shifted into a sitting position, picked at the rugburn the fall had left on her knee. He could tell she was joking, but somehow it still sent a shiver of heat through him, as did the way she sat up on her haunches and offered him her hand. "Here."

Taking it, Murphy let Anne help him to his feet, giving her a sheepish smile, which she returned, and it occurred to him then that he had never seen her look happy before. She looked happy now, with her eyes glittering with what was probably amusement and dimples at the corners of her mouth. It was amazing to see, after all the hurt he'd seen in that face for so long, and he couldn't help smiling wider at the implications. That after all the things that had happened to her because of him, somehow in this moment with him she'd managed to find a shred of happiness, even for a small while. It was incredible and it scared him a bit with the weight of it. But it was easy to forget anything even remotely resembling coherent thought when Anne reached out and ran a hand down his chest, drawing him back into the things that had been cut short when he stumbled. The look she was giving him… Murphy couldn't recall being on the receiving end of a look like that in years, and any nervousness on his part crumbled. He reached for her, pulling her close, and kissed her.

This time, Anne lowered him to the bed more carefully before she joined him on top of the blankets. Murphy hardly noticed the plush comforter under them, or the glow of the warm light overheard, or anything about his surroundings. All he could really comprehend was _her_, the way she moved, the way she straddled him carefully, legs spread over his hips as she leaned down to kiss him. There was something almost maddeningly appealing in the way she teased his mouth open with her tongue, the way she closed her hands over his shoulders. He managed to blur out reality to the point that all he was conscious of was what was happening in this bed, though it all seemed too good to be true.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," Anne admitted as she pulled back to lift her bra up over her head, and Murphy's breath caught in his throat from the combination of her words and the sight of her naked from the waist up. It had been so many years since he'd seen a naked woman; he hadn't been with anyone since Carol, and there was quite a long period even before the divorce during which the two hadn't been on quite such friendly terms. He didn't want to think about Carol right now, however, and he quickly shook the thought from his mind. All he wanted to think about was the woman on top of him, who was currently giving him a smile—an expression rather rare on her face—and running her fingertips lazily up and down his chest. For several moments rather than acting Murphy simply stared at her. She didn't seem to mind, and she stared back. Her stare was one he'd slowly gotten used to, but it was still an intense one nevertheless, even now. Though in this sort of situation it wasn't a bad thing.

"Me too," he admitted somewhat sheepishly, hands reaching up to close gently around her hips and then sliding upward, slowly, somewhat tentative as they cupped her breasts. Anne didn't seem like she was expecting it; a hoarse sound escaped from her and it sent a jolt of arousal through Murphy's body that he really wasn't prepared for. Reminding himself not to move too fast, to make this last as long as he could, he caressed her breasts gently, exploring the soft skin there and reveling in the noises she made. As indirect as she'd managed to convince him it was, his involvement in her past pain and misfortune was still there, and it was nothing short of incredible to have the chance to make her feel something _good_. It was more than that, though, and he knew it. This was not at all born from the desire to make up for his wrongdoings. It was born from desire for _her_, from the sheer passion that built in the very core of his being for this woman on top of him more and more with each passing second. He'd forgotten it was even possible to feel this way after so many years alone, after so many nights spent in an empty bed. It just further fueled the intensity in his movements, made him have to remind himself to keep his motions in check so he wouldn't get too rough with his hands and make her sore. Reaching for her shoulders he guided her down, bending her forward at the waist so he could replace one of the hands on her breasts with his mouth.

There were things he wanted to say then, but it was all chased away by the sound that she made when his tongue gently caressed where his fingers had just left. All that it came down to then was doing everything he could to make her make that sound again, and she did, when he kept his mouth busy so he could use his hands to push down the zipper on her pants more so he could slip his fingers inside. It was an awkward angle and his wrist cramped before he could touch her, so he took her hips and shifted them upward, giving her the cue to hold herself up so he could maneuver her pants down. They made it to her thighs before she slipped sideways, and Murphy laughed, smiling as he sat up a bit and watched her slide her pants and underwear off herself. Then, she was back on top of him, completely naked and it was almost surreal. It was stunning to think of how different she looked from the day he'd first met her, looking so relaxed, cheeks flushed and hair loose around her face. There was none of that cold, disconcerting hatred left in her eyes now, only an emotion that he was too nervous to put a name to just yet.

"Anne…" he felt compelled to say her name, her first name, as he let one hand slide down between her legs and caress her lightly and experimentally. Her sharp gasp made Murphy's muscles tighten considerably, and he kept it up, searching her face as he did. After several moments her eyes opened and locked with his, and he swore he felt an electric charge in the smolder of her gaze. It had been so long since he'd done this, but it was easy to fall back into the pattern, moving his fingers from on her to in her, pressing where he found it made her jerk the hardest. All the while, he studied her expression, listened to her heavy breaths and the soft sounds she made as she started to jerk her hips. His free hand on her breast, he let himself soak up every moment, from the way her legs on either side of him squeezed him slightly in an almost perfect rhythm to the feeling of her to the way he could feel her hands gripping his shoulders her steady herself on top of him. Murphy was getting completely lost in his ministrations and it caught him off guard when Anne shifted, moving off of him and grabbing hold of the button on his pants, wrestling it open and sliding down the zipper.

"Lift," she said almost commandingly, and he couldn't resist a smile as he raised his hips up so she could struggle with his pants, eventually getting them and his underwear to join her discarded ones on the floor beside the bed. She looked rather satisfied with that done, and then she reached for him and touched him. All at once Murphy completely drew a blank and all he could do was gasp and almost involuntarily shift his hips upward. Anne shifted closer to him and touched him slow, keeping her eyes on his, and Murphy didn't look away. His tendency to shy away from eye contact didn't come into play here, tonight in this bed. It was the opposite, really. He couldn't seem to stop staring into those intense eyes of hers. When Anne shifted closer, Murphy reached out and let his hand slide back between her legs again, and as they touched each other in silence, save for the involuntary sounds that Murphy was starting to love, for these brief moments his life made sense again.

It didn't matter what happened tomorrow morning, or the day after. For now it was easy to live in the moment, to simply lie with Anne in her bed and give her the same things she was giving him, things he'd wanted to give to her for longer than he really cared to admit. After such a long time going without, every sensation felt magnified, far more intense than he'd realized it could be. He was so caught up that when he felt himself starting to tense up he stopped the motion of his fingers, perfectly aware that he couldn't last much longer.

"Anne, I need to…" he wheezed in embarrassingly garbled tones. "I can't hold off anymore. Do you… have any… we need some…" it was difficult to find the words as he reached down, his hand touching her wrist to still hers. "… birth control." It more embarrassing to say than it should have been.

"Taken care of," she assured him in a far more confident and authoritative tone than he himself could ever hope to muster in this position. But then again, he wasn't Anne Cunningham.

"You sure?" he asked feebly, as an extra precaution, and she gave him a look.

"For god's sake, Murphy. Of course I'm sure."

"Right." Feeling rather foolish, Murphy shifted, moving so he could roll her onto her back, and she gave him a little, almost amused smile at his small show of dominance. Hovering over her, Murphy covered her lips with kisses as he guided himself between her legs. She lifted her legs up to meet him, squeezing her thighs around his hips and it instilled within him a kind of certainty, a realization that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He broke the kiss so he could stare into her eyes again as he slid into place. It was worth it to watch her eyes widen and then close, a soft hum ringing in his ears from her throat. Which, of course, was far more refined than his own reaction. He gave a hoarse gasp and squeezed handfuls of the sheets on either side of her head as the virtual explosion of sensation took hold of him and robbed him of far more self control than he even knew he had. Initially it was difficult not to simply buck out of control in what he was sure would have been a massive display of how inconsiderate he could be, and he squashed the urge quickly.

Instead, he started out slow, watching Anne's face as he did. There was something intensely intimate about the eye contact, and he relished it when normally it was something that made him uncomfortable. Anne's breath, which had slowed a bit while they were getting situated, quickly picked up again and it wasn't long before he was squeezing him with her thighs, moving her hips to match his. It all started to blur together then, the finer details evading him. Everything around them seemed to dissolve into nothing, because all he was really aware of was Anne. Her closeness, her presence, the sound and smell and taste of her when he bent his head to kiss her again. All of it was enough to drive him crazy, and his own harsh grunts mingled with the softer sounds she made. The sound of the rain hitting the window near the bed faded in and out of his consciousness, though at one point he was perfectly aware of the sound of the thunder crashing above them.

Somehow, the storm was completely irrelevant. It should have reminded him of the less pleasant time they spent together when there were identical storms raging, but all he could think of was how good all of this felt. This moment and these feelings managed to blot out everything else from his consciousness, from his memory. Anne's hands slid from around his shoulders to the sides of her head, and he placed his on top of them and held them entwined in his as he picked up the pace. He loved the way Anne looked under him, face sweaty and cheeks pink, her eyes glittering and warm and so, so different from when she'd glared at him so long ago. Everything about her exuded warmth and it was incredible the way she was capable of making him feel, when she was kissing him and moving against him, her hands tightening around his.

"Thank you…" Murphy muttered, and immediately felt silly for saying it. It just tore out of his mouth without his real conscious effort, and Anne gave him a curious look and then smiled.

"I'm the one who should be thanking you," her voice sounded breathless, and it made Murphy shiver to hear such passion in the normally professional woman's voice. She was grinding herself hard against him, her hands in his squeezing tighter, and Murphy could almost _see_ her drawing closer to the edge with every moment, every soft gasp. He loved it. Loved every minute of it. Their dual pleasure was more amazing than he could have imagined, feeling this way, being able to make her feel as good as he did. There was a shortage of good things in his life, and he'd realized long ago that Anne was one of the good things he had left. There was a desperate urgency to get her where she was already heading, and he could feel her desperation in every push of their hips together. Breathing hard, Murphy hoisted himself up slightly on his knees and the changing angle of his body made Anne gasp and tighten her fingers around his and he kept pressing onward. She was kissing him hard, the sounds she was making mingling with the crashing of the thunder outside, and Murphy was so consumed with the feeling of her and the taste of her mouth that when she suddenly tightened her grip on him with her hands and legs and broke from the kiss to absolutely lose control in a way that was nothing at all like her usual gathered attitude, it caught Murphy off guard in the most pleasant of ways. The hard moan that was accompanied by the rough jerking of her body made Murphy's throat even drier than it was.

Clinging hard to him, Anne rocked with him for a bit longer before her body finally relaxed and she came back down, breath hot against his ear as she moved her hands, placing them against his chest and giving him a push. Murphy wasn't sure what she was doing, but he went along with her as she moved, flipping the two of them over and ending up on top of him. Reaching for his hands again, she leaned down to kiss him and then straightened up, taking control of the situation in a way that was so unbearably appealing that Murphy could in all honestly barely even see straight.

"Anne…" he gasped for the second time that night, watching her as she moved above him, rocking against him. Her hair was in her face and the sight of her there, the impassioned quality to her motions, was almost more than Murphy could take. With her face and body lit by the flashes of lightning outside the window, there was something almost unearthly about her. She moved faster, and Murphy could almost not comprehend the things she was making him feel. Every muscle in his body was tense as he focused on her, on the crashing wave of sensation and the line of madness that they seemed to be toeing before his body gave in and with a hoarse shout he squeezed her hands, torso lifting slightly up off the bed. For a moment the world was spinning and when it righted itself there was Anne, still on top of him, still moving, with her body bright and in sharp relief from another blast of lightning outside.

As Murphy slowly relaxed back down onto the bed, he reached for Anne, pulling her down so he could wrap his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Wow…" was all he could really say, and he felt he had no business saying anything else right now. Not when she was still on top of him, leaning down so he could embrace her. He was aware of how sweaty their skin was now, when it was pressed together, starting to cool in the air of the bedroom.

"We really should have done that sooner," was Anne's response, and her lips brushed his cheek before she straightened back up, pulling her body away from his and rolling onto the bed beside him. Murphy missed the contact, but was almost immediately placated when she draped an arm across his chest. Looking sideways, he took in the sight of her messy hair and sweaty face, and it was endearing. Murphy was sure he didn't look much more refined. There was really no way to look elegant after sex, but he couldn't say he minded. He enjoyed that concrete, visible evidence of their lovemaking that existed even now, after it was over.

"Maybe we could do it again," he replied rather boldly, and was immediately apprehensive and wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut. But Anne responded by kissing his sweaty temple, and he was immediately able to forget such worries.

"If we didn't I'd be pretty damn disappointed." She was as earnest as ever, and it was a quality Murphy found he was starting to appreciate more and more as time passed knowing her. It reminded him of her father, in a way, but he didn't want to bring up Frank now, tonight. Not after the things that had happened earlier that day. So instead he just gave an affirmative grunt in response, and was rewarded with a soft, surprisingly chaste kiss on the lips. "Stay tonight?" she asked, and Murphy would be a liar if he said his chest and stomach didn't do a simultaneous little jolt.

"Sure," was all he was able to muster when she was rolling closer to pull him into her arms, and there was a moment when it occurred to him that this was all real. He'd resolved much earlier in the night that if this turned out to be a one night stand or if these rapidly intensifying feelings for her weren't returned, he'd be okay with that as long as he got to share this night with her. But the way she sighed when he rolled over onto his side to return her embrace, the way she nestled her forehead against his and just stared at him, made it increasingly obvious that he wasn't the only one. There was a solace in that, a warmth that started in his toes and slowly rose to fill his entire body at the thought, a warmth that did its part to dash the loneliness he'd been sharing his life with for so long.

"Do you want to… I don't know. Get coffee sometime? Or whatever it is people do. I've been out of the dating life a while," Anne said after several moments of pleasantly heavy silence, taking Murphy by surprise. He was reminded by that comment that she was also divorced, and having that in common was rather depressing, but at least he didn't have to try to justify a failed marriage to her. Then again, there was very little he had to justify to her. Anne was fundamentally nonjudgmental when it came down to it, and in more ways than one he was becoming increasingly sure that she understood him. It was more than he could say for anyone in years.

"Do you even like coffee?" was his stupid, instinctive response, and she made an impatient noise low in her throat.

"Who doesn't like coffee?"

"I'm sure there're people who—"

"I think the words you were looking for were 'yes, Officer Cunningham, I'd like to get a damn coffee with you and stop overanalyzing your feelings.' In case you needed the help."

"Appreciate the help. But I think I prefer Anne," Murphy replied, giving her a quick kiss.

"Alright then. 'Yes, Anne, I'd like to get a damn coffee with you and stop overanalyzing your feelings.'"

"That sounds like something I'd say," Murphy was unable to stop the ridiculous grin that made its way over his face. "Coffee, tea, I don't care. As long as I get to spend time with you." He was sure it sounded sappy and he was mildly embarrassed about saying it at all until he saw the look on Anne's face. He'd never seen her look quite so soft and so emotional, and it gave his heart a jolt.

"I'm falling for you pretty damn fast," she told him bluntly, an edge of intensity in her tone. "I just thought you should know."

Murphy was completely taken aback by actually hearing the things he'd suspected and hoped for out loud, and for a moment all he could do was stare at her, and make several uncoordinated attempts to respond. "Well I uh… I'm fine with that," he responded jokingly, before he realized that joking to make light of the intensity of his emotional response was probably not the best way to go about this. "You're not the only one," he whispered, one hand moving to gently trail through her messy hair. "No one's made me feel like this in… a long time." He didn't bring up Carol, didn't bring up _anything_. All he wanted to do was lie here with her and soak up the closeness and the returned feelings and wonder if he was falling in love with her too fast. But it occurred to him that there was probably no such thing as too fast in this regard. For now, nothing else mattered. Not what had happened today with Sewell, not their precarious situation as a correctional officer and an escaped convict. When it came down to it, when those roles were stripped away, they were just people, and it had taken Murphy long enough to realize Anne was the person he wanted to be with as it was. Now it seemed irrelevant.

As he lay and held this person who'd been willing to grant him forgiveness when he hadn't felt he deserved it, who'd managed to give him back that sense of being human and being wanted that he'd thought he'd lost, the world seemed to make sense. They fell asleep that way, though they were sweaty and he was sure one of her arms must be falling asleep just as intensely as his was. It didn't matter. Keeping her close, in more than one sense, took priority over other things.

Sometime late that night he was dimly aware of the fact that the rain had finally stopped falling.

* * *

_End._


End file.
